Oh yeah. The blog.
Step away for a bit and it’s a little hard to find the way back.
I got a break from it all! Flew to Kansas City to spend a girls weekend with dear friends I had not seen in years. Ten years ago we were young and kid-less, studying James, Philippians and “Bad Girls of the Bible” together, and forming life-giving, life-lasting friendships. So last weekend we escaped to a quirky little cottage to laugh, talk, relax, eat gourmet cupcakes, sleep (some of us!), watch chick flicks and pamper ourselves. It was a wonderful time away – the kind of time that lifts you and gives you what you need to keep going.
My mother-in-law came for a visit and took care of the little kids (Rhema and Hope) and the big kids (Brandon and me). My grandmothers died too young, and I never got a chance to know them. I’m so thankful for the time my girls have with their grandparents; their lives are rich and full because of Grandma and Nana.
Hope attends a Christian private school. Recently she informed me that she’s bored with her clothes. She goes two days a week. She’s in Pre-K. And already she’s got an issue with the dress code.
So to break up the monotony of her Pre-K existence Grandma made her a one-of-a-kind jumper…
and a secret message on the inside hem!
When she’s having a tough day or just not feeling sure of herself, she can flip back the edge of her dress and know she’s not alone: Jesus loves her (and Grandma does, too!)
In other news, Brandon had surgery to remove a chunk of skin cancer from his neck. He’s pretty chopped up, and it’s kind of gross, and we’ve been letting the jokes fly (a little inappropriately).
Such a shame. He only missed Halloween by a couple weeks.
Thanksgiving is at my house this year, and I’m doing the turkey for the first time! When Rhema was younger she was absolutely petrified of sticking her hand in a bag – a shopping bag, a brown paper bag, a Ziploc bag with her favorite pretzels – she absolutely would not do it. Scared to death. Now I can empathize with her because I’m soooo afraid to stick my hand inside that turkey and pull out the slimy neck bone and giblets – yuck! In my dreams I see my 16-pound decapitated raw turkey doing the jive in the kitchen sink with Brandon’s Frankenstein head going gobble gobble gobble and bobbling on top.